The Past, Conspiracy and the Interview
by Mislav
Summary: Set early in season four. Sherlock and Joan investigate the murder of a prominent DA and meet up with a powerful enemy. Meanwhile, Sherlock tries to help Randy get a new job. Case!fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **This story takes place somewhere early in season four. Definitely before my other case!fic, "A". I wanted to explore a character of Randy, introduced in the episode 2x11 "Internal Adult", and some of Sherlock's... questionable tactics and "preferences" hinted at in 2x15 "Corpse de Ballet" (that is also where Sherlock's "disclaimer" was featured). So this. And don't worry, I'm working on sequel to "A".**

 **I imagine Randy being portrayed by the same actor he was on the show: Stephen Tyrone Williams.**

 **Cast**

 **Emily Procter as Jenny Sanders/Susan Walters**

 **Missy Crider as secretary Mandy Brooks**

 **Jay R Ferguson as Nick Hawkes**

 **Amber Tamblyn as Lydia Day**

 **Stephen Tyrone Williams as Randy**

 **Jillian Bowen as Lyndsey Dawns**

 **Seamus Dever as Stephen Smith**

Joan rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen, still sleepy. She was wearing her red robe, white T-shirt and fuzzy slippers. It was only after she filled her coffee pot with water that she noticed Sherlock sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, shirtless, bunch of papers and photographs on the floor around him.

"Good morning", she said.

"Good morning", Sherlock said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Excuse my manners, it's been a long night."

Joan frowned. "Maybe for you", she commented, starting to make herself some hot coffee. "What have you been doing?"

Sherlock sighed. "It's about Randy."

Joan frowned. "Randy?"

Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "He is getting ready for a job interview and is uncertain of how to behave or what to do if somebody finds about his past and brings it up." He looked down at the documents. "I've been working on the plan to help him, starting with researching about his, possibly, future place of employement. And other options, just in case."

Joan pouted. "Stalking. Cute."

Sherlock sulked. "It isn't stalking if you only study publicly available records. Or easily obtainable private records", he said under his breath.

"Does Randy know about that?", Joan asked, adding coffee to an already boiling water.

"He will when the time will be right", Sherlock assured her. Joan noticed a piece of paper on the near by table, with a writing on it that appeared familiar: she picked it up and, upon examining it closely, read: "COITUS IN PROGRESS OR RECENTLY CONCLUDED."

"Well, I'm glad that I woke up late this morning", she commented, putting the sign down.

"Just for a brief relaxation", Sherlock said calmly. "She came late and left early, as agreed to."

He was about to crack open another file when his ringtone went off. He jumped off the floor, picked up his phone that had been laying on the floor near by and, upon seeing Gregson's caller ID, answered immediately.

"Hallo?"

"We need you, and Joan", Thomas said, his tone of voice firm and serious, even more than usual. "Murder."

Sherlock remained silent for a moment. Joan glanced at him. "OK, I think we can make it in about half an hour."

"Hurry up", Thomas ordered.

Sherlock frowned. "What is a big emergency?", he asked.

Thomas sighed. "The victim is DA George Arrow."

#

While they followed Thomas Gregson under the crime scene tape and then into the living room, both Sherlock and Joan couldn't help but admire how big and well decorated the victim's house was. Of course, for Sherlock, it was also a source of annoyance.

"He was found dead in his living room, shot four times in the chest", Thomas informed them. "The maid discovered the body this morning at five am. GSR test is negative. He was murdered last night between eight and eleven pm. As far as she knows, he lived alone, wasn't seeing anyone lately, didn't act out of the ordinary-other than being even more busy than usual. His ex wife lives in Philadelphia, his son is away on college."

George's body was laying face up on the living room floor, near the coffee table, his shirt riddled with four bloody bullet holes to the chest area. He was a tall and strong Caucasian man with short black hair and black eyes. The drawers had been ransacked, stuff scattering around. There was even a pillow on the floor near the body. In front of the coffee table was a stool with plasma TV on it, to the left from the stool a small CD case. Next to the TV was the bedroom door, a cupboard with CD player on it near the couch, and then the entrance to the big dining room in the other end of the house. Joan stood and took a good look at the room while Sherlock was listening to captain Gregson, in the same time observing the scene.

"So far it looks like a burglary gone wrong", Thomas said. "The money and creit cards from his wallet are missing, as well as his watch, apparently DVD player, toaster and juicer from the kitchen, some paintings and photographs-there are many on the walls and there are some nails but nothing hanging from there. There may be more, the maid couldn't positively identify it all and we have yet to inspect the receipts in the house. We haven't ruled out other possibilities though." He turned around. "The killer broke in through the window in the back. All the doors and other windows are locked from the inside. We still have to figure out how did he disable the alarm system though. There is a security camera outside, near the front door. The devices containing the tapes was here", he said, pointing to the small table in the hallway. "The killer took it."

Joan turned towards Thomas just about the time Sherlock was about to take a better look at the body.

"It wasn't a burglary gone wrong. Somebody just made it to look that way", she exclaimed.

Thomas glared at her. "And how do you know that?", he asked.

Joan walked over to the near by cupboard and pointed to the drawers. "First of all, smeared traces of blood on the drawers, wallet, jewelry box over there and several other items in the house, as well as the fact that one of the shell casings is partially covered by the couch cushion that also has small traces of blood on it, mean that the most of the burglary, probably all of it actually, took place after the murder. Even if the burglar was under stress, why would he waste time with pulling the money and credit cards out of the wallet and jewelry out of the jewelry box? Why not just take the box and the wallet with him? Like somebody wanted to make sure that we consider this a burglary gone wrong." She frowned, looking back at Thomas. "Where do you usually keep your driver's licence?", she asked.

Thomas stared at Joan for a moment, surprised by the question. Sherlock just looked from the side, a mixture of curiosity and proud on his face. "In the wallet", Thomas eventually answered.

Joan continued. "Mr. Arrow's wallet is laying on this cupboard", she said, pointing at the wallet. She took a step closer, switching her attention to the family photographs on the cupboards and the walls, many of them taken in that living room. "Judging by these photographs, that is where it would usually be placed. The killer ransacked the bottom drawers, pulling out the old clothing and scattering it around. And yet, mr. Arrow's driving licence is laying on the top of the pile."

She walked over to the near by trophy case, followed by Thomas, while Sherlock just observed with a look of satisfaction on his face.

"The killer also ransacked the bottom drawers, only to find a bunch of old receipts and magazines", she explained, looking at the pile on the floor. "There is a golden ear ring laying on the top of this receipt. Somebody had made the mess first, then stole the money and valuables." She exhaled before turning back to face Thomas. "This was all about estaging the scene, not about the financial gain."

Thomas took a look over the crime scene, waiting for the information to sink in. "Let's examine the broken window then", he decided and walked down to the other end of the house, with Sherlock and Joan in tow. He stood aside as they approached the killer's presumed point of entry.

The window was big, with clean glass and nice, heavy white frame. It was now wide opened (with obvious scratches on the frame and the lock from the outside), overlooking the big, nicely kept back yard.

"There are some dents and the marks in the ground in the yard, but nothing clear", Thomas explained as Sherlock and Joan stared at the window and the yard outside intently, both trying to spot clues that laid there and make sense out of them. Sherlock ran his fingers down the scratches and pulled at the window frame and the knobs quite strongly a few times before inspecting the impressions in the ground.

"Mr. Arrow knew the killer", Sherlock suddenly explained, turning to face his two surprised colleagues. He immediately went on to make an explanation. "He let the killer inside", he stated before tracking his finger over the damage on the window frame. "There are no traces of dirt anywhere in the house", he explained, looking down at the floor again for a moment. "No evidence of it being cleaned up either." He then pointed to the scratch marks on the window frame, around the lock. "This damage is way too radnom and minor to be consistent with succesfully breaking through such a high quality, locked window." He gazed down the near by hallway. "That is why the alarm didn't go off: mr. Arrow had turned it off himself. I'm sure that the device's hard drive records will confirm that." He paced around the room, trying to sort his thoughts. "Mr. Arrow turned the alarm off, unlocked the door and let the killer in. He closed and then locked the door behind and then turned the alarm back on, or the killer did so after murdering him to make it for a more convincing set up. After murdering mr. Arrow, the killer unlocked the window from the inside and sneaked out. Due to already being in the house, never actually applying any force and the window being quite the distance away from the alarm device, the alarm, although a high quality one, didn't go off, especially if the killer was moving slowly." He coughed. "The perpetrator sneaked out through the window, did some minor damage to the window frame and the lock-probably with a screwdriver, I'd say-so it would look like the killer had broken inside, then fled", he concluded, waving with his hand at the yard. "That also explains why the killer took the security footages from the camera placed near the front door."

Without another word, he turned around and walked back into the living room, towards the body. Thomas and Joan followed him.

"Like I said, ME estimates that he was murdered the last night between eight and eleven pm", Thomas repeated. Sherlock quickly inspected the dining room, then went to the victim's bedroom, closing the door behind. "Two neighbors saw a red Mustang driving by at about ten pm last night, but didn't get the licence plates or any distinctive characteristics and can't describe the driver."

"His right shoe is positioned lower than his left one", Joan pointed out, while Sherlock was looking at the body in silence, deep in thought. "The shoe polish on it is slightly smeared", she added before her eyes trailed down to study the marks on the floor. It was about that time that Sherlock got out of the victim's bedroom, closing the door behind. "There are some scuff marks on the floor and the coffee table is a bit crooked to the side. He put up a struggle. Probably kicked the attacker in the leg or stomach."

"Maybe the killer planned to shoot mr. while he had his back turned to him or her but had spotted the reflection on this scotch bottle, turned around and fought back", Sherlock suggested, pointing to the scotch bottle on the table. "It is a pretty good reflective surface, and scuff marks on the floor seem to be consistent with such movements."

"George was quite strong", Thomas noted. "We'll check local hospitals, just in case. If anything, we know that our killer probably has a nasty fresh bruise or two. Maybe forensics will find DNA or trace evidence on that shoe. That could help us find him or her."

"Her", Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, his gaze fixated on the body, making both Joan and Thomas turn facing him. "Our killer is a woman", he calmly exclaimed.

Thomas stared at Sherlock in surprise. "How so?", he asked.

Sherlock turned towards him. "There is a still strong scent of, women's parfume, a pretty high quality one too, in this room, mixed with an equally strong scent of gunshot residue", he explained. "Those same two scents are present at the front door, hallway, bedroom and at the opened window. There are no similar scents or bottles of that parfume anywhere else in the house. The impression in the ground in the back yard are mostly unclear and partial, useless, but one was obviously made by a high heel." He then turned towards the near by bedroom door. "I've noticed slight traces of blood on the door knob to the victim's bedroom too", he explained. "Nothing in there appears to be disturbed, not even the case drawer, but on his writing desk there is a printer, but no computer. Mr. Arrow did live alone, to the best of the maid's knowledge, all of the clothing in the closet seems to belong to him and all the bed sheets and pillows look clean and tidy. However, in the bathroom near the bedroom, I've recovered an obviously recently purchased bottle of Viagra with three pills missing. And a receipt in the trash can in the bedroom, showing that mr. Arrow had purchased that medicine a week prior to his death. He was obviously seeing someone."

Just as he had finished, several items on the bear by coffee table caught his attention. He leaned over, observing them closely.

"A pen and a marker, a glass of scotch few inches away, and a big empty space in between", he exclaimed, not looking up. He cheeked the couch cushions. "Dents to the cushion positioned in front of that area of the coffee table." He looked up at Thomas and Joan. "I smelled alcohol on the victim's body. He had been, or was about to, work on something, maybe a case, before he met his demise. Now those materials are gone", he concluded before standing up. After looking around some more, he noticed something strange on the CD player on the cupboard near the couch. He took a step closer while the anticipation rushed through his body. He ran to the CD case and examined it carefully, then walked back over to the CD player and gave the blood splatters on it one more look.

"Look at this blood splatters on the CD player close to the body", he exclaimed, looking up at his colleagues. Thomas frowned. "At first, they look quite consistent with the gunshout wounds. And they are-but not completely. They are unsually wide, and shaky looking at the edges", he said, gesticulating a bit with his hands. "Like the surface they had been laying on, while still wet, was warm and a bit vibrating. Human blood can remain wet in this room, in this time of hour, under this conditions, for about half an hour. This CD player had been turned on during or shortly after the murder. The CD player is now cold and turned off, but a few hours had passed since the murder and this type of CD player is programmed to authomatically turn itself off if ten minutes pass without a new CD being put to it and set to play, to save electricity in case the owner had fallen asleep or left in a hurry, forgetting to turn it off."

Joan frowned. "So, he was listening to the music at the time of his murder. Not weird."

Sherlock pointed to the near by CD case. "All the CD boxes over there are lined up and appear intact. It would take some time to examine them all, but it is very unlikely that he would have taken one CD, put it to play and then immediately close the box and put it back on the shelf. Or that a person of his weath would have purchased a pirated CD and decide to listen to it that very night. There are no other CDs, CD boxes or even wrappers anywhere else in the house. I've checked." He frowned. "Also, don't you think it's odd that the killer has stolen most of valuables, even a toaster and a juicer, but left the CD player?"

Joan frowned. "So, the killer put the CD to play before or after she murdered George." She took a look around. "Why?"

"Maybe she was in a mood for a "joy of music". Or she is playing with us", Sherlock suggested before taking the CD out and looking at it's surface. Thomas and Joan approached him in order to examine the CD by themselves.

"An album, by a singer named Susan Walters", Thomas read.

Joan glared at Sherlock. ""The" Susan Walters?"

Sherlock nodded his head. "Susan Walters is an name. Her real name is/was Jenny Sanders. New York's most prolific serial killer. One of George Arrow's first big cases. She was released from prison two years ago, after serving twenty two years. If I am not mistaken, January 28th is an anniversary of her conviction."

They all sighed and exchanged looks.

~OPENING ROLES AND CREDITS~


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Some parts of this story have been inspired by the real life events. Some may recognize them.**

And so, Sherlock, Joan and Thomas were in the car: captain Gregson behind the wheel, Holmes and Watson on the back seats, all with seat belts on. Joan really wanted to concentrate on the dull scenery outside, but Sherlock kept bringing her up to speed with way too detailed description of Jenny's... Susan's life and crimes.

"Born on November 21st 1975, she had four brothers and sisters and was the youngest of the children. Her family would struggle finantially often, and her father was a borderline alcoholic, at times abusive towards her mother. She was setting her bed until the age of seven. She claimed that she was bullied in middle school by "popular girls". Her younger brother died in a car accident when she was ten, and her mother attempted suicide a month later. At the age of twelve, she was beaten and mugged, the attacker was never identified. She was left with a scar at the side of her neck, that she would often cover with a make up. She started wetting her bed again for a year after that. Amazing how a real life can ammount that many serial killer cliches." "She was arrested for petty theft a few times and, at the age of fifteen, received five months probation for vandalising her ex boyfriend's car."

Thomas chimmed in. "Jenny first robbed one McDonalds establishments, the one that she had been frequenting with her family dating back few years, in February 1992, stealing about two thousand dollars. She was armed with a .45 caliber gun that she had stolen, together with a box of amunition, after breaking into a pawn shop a week prior. During a robbery, she was wearing a black jacket, black ski mask over her face, and black leather gloves over her hands. She spent that money on jewelry and new clothing."

"She commited her first two known murders on February 17th 1992", Sherlock exclaimed. "At that time, she worked part time, afternoon shift, in, you guessed, one of McDonalds establishments." Joan rolled her eyes as Sherlock continued. "About an hour after finishing her shift, before closing time, she rushed inside: same disguise, same weapon. There was nobody there but a waiter, Dean Morgan, and one of the guests, George Smith. Jenny, now Susan, demanded money. But the waiter recognized her, called out her name. Realizing she had no choice, she forced them, at gunpoint, to go in a near by restaurant's freezer and lay on their knees with their back turned to her. She shot the waiter once in the back of the head. The guest panicked and tried to run away: she shot at him, missed twice, and eventually shot him in the back of the head. She walked over to him and fired once again, to finish the job." Sherlock took a deep breath. He even showed Joan the photographs of the victims (from the time they were still alive). Dean was a slightly overweight Caucasian man in his thirties, with short brown hair and brown eyes. George was a middle aged Caucasian man, with short greyish hair and green eyes. "She took all the money from the valut and the cash box-about five thousand dollars-and surveillance tapes and left. The second cook returned soon after, but by that time it was too late and Jenny was long gone. The only evidence were latent shoe prints found on the scene and a glove print found on the freezer door. A month later, she used the stolen money to buy herself a new car."

"Oh my God...", Joan whispered.

Thomas sighed. "She even started taking cyanide pills with her, hidden in wallets, secret compartments in shirt sleeves... in case she were to get caught. She would extract or from peach and apple seeds and fill it with capsulses that used to contain powdrered vitamine A. She easily purchased those in the drug store without prescription. But I imagine Sherlock will get to that later."

"It gets worse", Sherlock warned Joan, matter of factly, making her groan. He immediately showed her the photograph of the victim: a smiling petite brunette in her twenties. "On March 29th 1992, Jenny left home early and walked into one of the McDonalds restaurants". There was nobody there except for a waitress, Anne Johnson; the cook was on his way. Jenny pulled out her gun and demanded money." He looked through the window longingly. "Anne pulled out the papper spray that she kept hidden under the counter, papper sprayed Jenny, and ran outside. Then Jenny, whose eyesight got a little better, ran outside too, after Anne. She fired astonishing ten shots, hitting Anne four times in the back. Killing her. She ran away without stealing anything. Raymond was running after her for two blocks, but she managed to escape. She spent an hour in one of the abandoned buildings before sneaking out, walking back towards her car, and droving to school. She claimed that she was late due to having a flat tyre." He almost grinned after saying that. "Latent shoe prints were found on the scene, and forensics managed to extract woman's DNA from some tears and an eyelash found on the floor and smeared tears and skin cells found on the door. Ballistics soon linked that murder to the one of three months before."

"Do I really need to know all of this?", Joam cried.

"The woman is obviously clever and potentially dangerous", Sherlock said calmly. "We are about to interrogate her as a suspect in a murder of a DA who helped to out her away. It wouldn't hurt you to get an insight into her depravity, her mind."

Joan glared at him. "I thought you dislike criminal profiling."

"This is different. We need to at least have some idea of what she is capable of, what to expect." He clapped his hands almost enthusiastically before showing Joan the photograph of a tall, strane Caucasian teenage boy and a middle aged blonde woman of average height and weight. "She committed her fourth and fifth murder on June 27th 1992. Also a McDonalds restaurant, before closing time. There was nobody there but a seventeen year old employe, Sean Dawson, and thirty eight year old Amy Millworth, a cleaning lady. That time, she decided to murder the employees right away, to avoid any risks. She walked inside, no mask, and placed the orders. When Sean turned his back to her and started getting her a milkshake, Jenny locked the door behind, put the CLOSED sign on the door and shot him once in the back of the head, killing him. Amy tried to run away, but Jenny shot her once in the back of the head too, killing her. She put all the curtains on, found the safe key on him, stole all the money-fifteen thousands dollars- took the surveillance tapes, sneaked out through the back door and fled."

Thomas's face fell. "She soon turned to her friends as well."

Sherlock nodded his hand. "Well, an aquaintance. Michael Ramirez, also sixteen year old." He was a Hispanic boy of average height and weight, with short black hair and black eyes. "He figured that she was the killer. Maybe she was bragging. Maybe he just noticed her spending a lot of money, remembered that he had heard about her working in the same restaurant where the murders had happened and put the pieces together. Jenny was vague about that in her confession. Maybe even she didn't know. He began blackmailimg her, wanting a part of the money. They arranged the meeting near one of the isolated docks on Hudson river, late at night on July 19th 1992. Jenny, as expected, showed up late, sneaking up to him, then shot him in the back of the head and threw the body and the shell casing in the river. She had stolen his money and later used it to buy a bracelet that she then gave to her mother as a birthday present."

He finished just when Thomas pulled over due to a red traffic light. Sherlock licked his dry lips and Joan felt her insides twist as she though back at the things Sherlock had told her.

"She committed her seventh murder on October 28th 1992. That time, the target was twenty three years old Kent River, man who used to frequent the first restaurant where she worked." Kent was an African American man of average height, buff, with short curly black hair and black eyes. "He had been filling vending machines throughout Manhattan." The car was back in motion. The neighborhood seemed to be getting even more upscale. "One night, at about eight pm, she started following him around the city in her car for hours. When he was about to fill a vending machine near a at the time closed bar, she shot him in the back of the head, stole his car keys, unlocked the trunk, stole all the money, put it in the trunk of her car, and drove away. There was still ten thousand dollars left. Ballistics linked that murder to the first four and matched the DNA profile recovered from her hair found ih the trunk with the one recovered on the scene of the third murder."

Sherlock stretched himself out in his seat. Joan was staring at the road blankly. "Jenny committed her eighth murder on November 30th 1992. She followed one of the more popular girls from her class, seventeen years old Annabel Morrisson, after the classs and, after her car had found it's way on a small isolated road that lead to her house in the suburb, Jenny bumped with his car into Annabel, forcing her to stop." Annabel was shown in her cheerleader uniform. She was pretty tall, very well build, with ling curly red hair and blue eyes. "Once Annabel had gone out, pointed a gun at her, planning to abduct her, demand ransom and, obviously, murder her eventually. But suddenly, a patrole car ended up passing by. Jenny hadn't counted on that. The officers had been returning after responding to a domestic abuse report in the other part of the neighborhpod but had to take another road home due to a traffic accident. Annabel started running towards them, screaming for help, despite Jenny's orders not to. Jenny shot her once in the back of the head, killing her, then quickly got into her car and drove away. Neither officer got a clear enough look of the car or the driver. The bullet was too deformed for ballistic testings and the shell casings had apparently disappeared into a near by creek, and M.O. was different, so nobody linked that murder to the previous five known ones. The murder was ruled to be a carjacking gone wrong."

Short silence. They had to wait for a big truck to pass in front of them.

"Jenny committed her ninth murder on December 15th 1992. She robbed another McDonalds establishment shortly before the closing time and murdered a single employee who was there, a waitress, fifty eight year old Judith Gould." Judith was a Caucasian woman of average height, pretty slim, with shoulder length brown hair and light brown eyes. "She took off with five thousand dollars and security camera tapes. She went a step further and pistol whipped Susanne before murdering her, and also scrubbed the floor with the broom that she had found near by, and took with her, before leaving. She gave the money to her parents, claiming it to be a bonus from work, so they could use it to pay for repair works on the roof to their house, something that they had been planning on doing for a few years, which they did." He shifted in his seat. "She later went after one of the homicide detectives on the case. Mac Stein."

"December 31st, 1992", Thomas said. "She sneaked out of her house and broke into the house where Mac's neighbor, thirty year old Tracey Willson, lived." Joan felt ache in her chest once she saw Tracy's photograph. Tracy was an African American woman with a really nice smile, pretty tall but of average weight, her hair dark black, shoulder length. Her eyes were of the same shade. "Jenny pistol whipped her and forced her, at gunpoint, to open the home valut, from where she took the money and jewelry. She then forced Tracy to call Mac, who was in a summer house with his family as at every time of that year before, and inform him what was going on. She then took the phone away from Tracey and gave nine minutes to come to Tracey's house, otherwise she would kill her. She probably chose that amount of time because she had murdered nine victims up to that point. didn't show up in time. Jenny murdered Tracey by shooting her once in the back of the head, wrote "YOU FAILED" with her blood on the wall, and fled with Tracy's money and jewelry. That was her tenth murder." He gulped. "Mac suffered a nervous breakdown, attempted suicide... nasty stuff."

"She committed her eleventh and final murder on January 5th 1993", Sherlock said. "She got into an argument with her boyfriend, Jay X, while they were at her house alone." Sherlock quickly showed Jay's photograph to Joan. He was an Asian teenage boy of average height and weight, with spiky short black hair and black eyes. "She bludgeoned him with a lamp torch and then shot him in the chest. She found some protective plastic in the basement, wrapped the body in it, put the body in the trunk of her car, drove it to a near by forest, and dragged it into a ditch, covering it with branches. She disposed of the gloves and booties in a near by dumpster and drove back home. She managed to clean up her car, clothing and room before her parents arrived home. She used his money on a pool game with the help of a fake ID that, ironically, he obtained her with a few months prior. Won five thousand dollars."

He shoved phone down his pocket. "And on January 14th 1993, the fisherman found Michael's body. Ballistics linked the bullet recovered from his skull with the six unsolved murders. Further investigations recovered that one car received a ticket near one of the docks on Hudson river on the day of his disappearance. Car registered to Jenny. One of the detectives remembered that name: the restaurant where the first two murders had taken place was her workplace. They also found out that one of the girls going to the same class as her, , was murdered too, with a single gunshot wound to the back of the head, .45 caliber gun. Jenny was arrested soon afterward and her room and the car were searched. However, once in the interrogation room, she swallowed the cyanide pill." Joan shuddered, her jaw growing slack. Sherlock remained calm. "She was in a coma for a week, but eventually survived and made a full recovery. Probably because one of the responding persons remembered to induce vomiting and the hospital had an antidot."

Thomas sighed. "At first, the case seemed iron tight. Forensics linked three pairs of shoes found in her closet to the four McDonalds murders. The gloves found there matched to description provided by the witnesses to the third murder and to the glove print found on the first and second McDonalds murder scene. Ballistics also managed to link the gun found hidden in an empty spare tyre compartment in the trunk of her car with all the murders. Scrap book made out of the news articles about the murders was also found there, with her fingerprints all over it. The money was also found there. And forensics managed to match Jenny's car to the car paint found on car and te scene. They recovered impressions of a ransom note draft on one of the notepads found in her room. It matched to her handwriting. They also found a notebook detailing her phony fund plan hidden in an air being in her room. Despite the detail clean up, they found traces of Susanne's blood on her sneakers."

"However, there were problems", Sherlock continues, glancing at Joan. "Forensics who conducted the search photographed the spare tyre compartment, but not what was inside. Hence the scrap book, the gun and the money became. Also, forensic linguistics wasn't-and still isn't-an exact science."

"That was the only reason why George backed off?", Joan asked, not sounding convinced.

Thomas took a deep breath. "Not really. There was also a serial rapist active in the area at the time. He raped the fifth victim on the same day Jenny committed her fifth murder, close by. By the time Jenny got arrested, he raped two more women and raped and murdered the eight one. She claimed that she had seen him leaving the scene and could describe him. With that in mind and a sudden lack of evidence, George agreed. She identified him from the mugshots. DJ Castle. The murder weapon, gloves, mask and duct tape used in the crimes were found in his house."

"Not to mention, Jenny's lawyer pointed out that some unidentified fingerprints were found on the three of the murder scenes, thought that could have belonged to the guests", Sherlock exclaimed. "Anne had filed a restraining order on her biyfriend a few days before her murder. And there had been some unsolved burglaries in Jenny's neighborhood at the time of her death, and the bullet in her head was too deformed for a full ballistic testings. And he managed to ban them from mentioning her suicide attemp in court. As horrifying as it sounds, making a deal with Jenny was probably the safest option."

Sherlock continued. "Jenny, being tried as an adult, was found guilty of eleven counts of murder in the first degree and received twenty year imprisonment sentence, eleven of them, all to be run concurrently. She was also found guilty of eight counts of armed robbery in the first degree and given eight eight year sentences, to run concurrently with each other but not with the murder sentence. Since DJ wasn't as keen on barganing, the case went to trial, he was found guilty on all counts and sentenced to life imprisonment. He is still in prison. George prosecuted that case as well. Maybe that helped him preserve his reputation!"

"And, after she had served the murder sentence and one quarter of an armed robbery sentence, they released her?"

"Well, the prison was overcrowded. And she was a model prisoner. No misbehavior at all, except during the first few months there. Gotta act though in order to survive if you are new in there."

"She graduated High school, college and law school while in prison, with straight As. She worked in a prison library during her entire stay, increasing the prison staff assigned there from five to fifteen within two years, and managing to enrichen it with about two thousand more pieces of literature during those twenty two years. During her stay there, she also helped one hundred prisoners earn a college degree and about half as much get an early parole hearing, and also petitioned several times to afford better conditions for pregnant prisoners, which was finalised in 2000 and additionally improved in 2004. In 1996, she performed a CPR on a prisoner who had a heart attack, saving her life. She even saved a COs life during a riot in 2004. There was quite a bit of media coverage when she had donated five thousands dollars-a part of the money that she had earned-to a recently released cancer studies."

"And now she is a celebrity."

"She had actually written and published two books of poems while incarcerated, one in 1999 and the other in 2005, as well as an essay about Columbine High shooting in a private psychology magazine in 1998. Once she was released there were plenty of people more than willing to work with her. They knew better than underestimating the morbid curiousity of the today's society. Her first music video soon became a hit on YouTube, after a month she gave an interview for New York times and her first album, released six months later, was both a commercial and marketing success. It had only gotten better since."

"I've heard that she had published her autobiography a month ago. And is to star in a HBO horror movie the next year."

"Well, she is definitely fascinating. And cunning.

"It doesn't hurt that she looks like this. Even at the age of thirty eight and after twenty years in prison."

"Well, regular visits to the prison gym, being a model inmate with almost a privileged status, and admittedly convincing your sister to send you a high quality shampoo and hand cream once a month during your stay and having prison provide you low fat meals due to a "health reasons" probably had something to do with that. And it is not only about physical fitness. She reportedly watched the news on the TV in her cell, would buy and read the newspaper every day and would later even pay the COs some money to let her use their phones and other gadgets."

"She expected to get out eventually."

Joan nodded. "And was well prepared." "I would't be surprised if Jamie ends up the same way a few years from now, minus the publicity and the whole "reformed" thing."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what..."

"It's alright. No point denying the likely outcome." "We can as well joke about it if we can't change it."

"You've been getting texts a lot lately", Joan noted.

"No reason to be concerned."

"You really care about his interview doing well", Joan concluded. She looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "I'm proud."

"I'm glad", Sherlock said, shoving the phone down his pocket. He kept looking through the window. The car passed near Central Park.

"What was the last time you talked to him?", Joan asked carefully.

"A week ago. Not counting our several brief discussions later about the job interview." He grimaced. "He didn't come close to using again, if that's what you're wondering. No sign of his girlfriend resurfacing either."

"What kind of the job is he applying to?", Joan asked.

"Interior designer." Joan widened her eyes. Sherlock smiled. "He is much better in that area than one might inagine." He looked through the window again. "He has nothing to contribute to the brownstone decor though."

#

Susan's home was, in a word, astonishing. Joan couldn't help but feel a more than a little envy as Susan led her, Thomas and Sherlock into her living room: a large room with big Persian roug on the floor, French windows on both sides, plazma TV on the table on the one end of the room, a counter with a minibar on the other, and several quite luxury, nicely framed paintings and photographs on the walls. There was a sofa in the center of the room, a leather couch and a glass coffee table in between, s massage armchair in front of it. Susane herself looked surprisingly true to the photographs, but was also dressed quite casually: white T-shirt, red jeans and blue sandals.

"You have to excuse me", Susan said politely. "I am not used to having the police at my house." "I still remember the last time that happened though. Not a pleasant experience."

"We believe you", Thomas said sarcastically. Sherlock noticed her high heeled shoes: one in the corner near the armchair and an empty box and a receipt for a different pair in a trash basket near the counter.

Susan didn't seem to mind. "Yeah. They just reported about in on the radio. That's sad."

Joan glared at her. "You are sad?"

Susan looked at her like she was surprised by her question. "Of course I am! He basically gave me an opportunity to start my life over, eventually, despite my mistakes. I mean, how lucky could I have been?"

"And you had no contact with him since your release?", Sherlock asked.

"Of course not", she said sweetly. "That way I would have violated my parole."

"Nice", Thomas muttered. "But we still have to know where were you the last night between nine and eleven pm."

"I take it, judging by the shape of your car key, that you drive a Mustang?"

Susane looked him in the eyes, smiling warmly. "Yes. Model 2014. Ruby red."

"So, where were you?", Thomas repeated.

"On a charity event that I have set up. Raising money to stop poverty in Africa." She grinned, fondling her hands together. "At Plasa Hotel, the night before between seven and twelve pm."

"Who can confirm that?, Joan asked.

Susan nodded her head, walked a few steps closer, then stopped. "Other than dozens of eyewitnesses, this." She raised her right jeans leg, revealing an electric bracelet around her ankle. "My parole restrictions: no drug use, eleven pm curfew, random polygraph and drug tests, not allowed to interact with minors unsupervised, not allowed to own a firearm or work at-or visit-any of McDonalds establishments... and this. It monitors my movements 24/7."

She smiled slightly as the three people looked back at her, baffled. "Alibi enough?"

#

The trio took one more look at Susan's house-well, more of a mansion- before heading over to the car.

"Well, I honestly don't know what to make out of this", Thomas admitted.

"She does wear the same perfume like the one whose scent I had felt on the scene", Sherlock pointed out. "And is a fan of high heels. Not to mention the motive. And we know that she is capable of far worse murders than this one." He pulled his hands down his pockets. "Well, was."

"And she owns the car the same like the one George's neighbors had spotted", George added.

"She can't own a gun with her criminal record, but she spent twenty two years in maximum security penitentiary", Joan theorized. "It isn't hard to imagine that she probably knows some people who could get it for her."

Sherlock sighed. "And CD featuring her songs was put to play after the murder. At the time of the murder she was at the long party attended by many people taking place twenty miles away from George's home. She could have easily sneaked out."

Joan exhaled. "So, the serial killer did it. Case solved."

"Not yet", Sherlock stopped her. "We have many circumstancial evidence but nothing linking her directly to the murder. Not to mention that the motive is slim. And her alibi would be hard to refute, if the records turn out to be in her favor. She did seem pretty certain in that regard." He took a deep breath, frowning for a moment. "We should search mr. Arrow's office", he decided.

#

George Arrow's office consisted of the big writing desk on the center, big book case behind it, and several file cabinets in the corner. His secretary, a young African American woman with long black hair and black eyes, led them inside.

"I take it that we can find the copies of his case files in here?"

"Yes, and the older ones are in the archive. But he would often take the new case files, of the cases he would currently work on, home, sometimes without making a copy." She shuddered. "I am afraid that the one missing from his house might be lost forever." She sighed, then looked around. "He would receive a lot of threatening letters, like most of DAs. I have most of them stored. You can have them if you want."

"Sure", Joan said politely. The secretary left, closing the door behind. Sherlock and Joan then started going through the drawers and the work computer. When Sherlock was finished examing the upper drawers, Joan, going through the date book, spoke up.

"Have you considered doing a... re enacment with Randy?"

Sherlock looked up at her, appearing to be confused.

"You pretending to be his future boss, him being the candidate...", Joan explained.

Sherlock quickly moved to the bottom drawers. "Considered. Still haven't decided."

Joan closed the date book and began walking around, examining the paintings and photographs on the walls and books in the book case. "You know, the core of the sponsor/recovering addict dynamic and understanding is in the sober companion or sponsor relating himself to the addict and the other way around", she eventually said. "In regards to struggles with the sobriety... but also the other areas of life."

Sherlock gave her a long hard look, then went back to searching the drawers. "As you very well know, I was employed on many tradicional workplaces, hated them all, got fired from all of them and that was always a great relief to me." He sighed. "So..."

Joan crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at him. "But surely, you still struggle to do your best, you even care about the impression you leave on others at times... no offense."

"That is a cross we all must bare", he admitted. "At times." Before Joan was able to say something about it, he quickly stood up, picked one pen up from the table and showed it to her. "Now, this pen..."

Joan frowned. "What about it?"

"An extremely high quality one", Sherlock explained. "More so than any others in the office. And it has a logo on it. "Justice Oriented Inc.", a private law firm." He pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket, put the pen in it and sealed it. "As weird as it sounds, I think it is worth a further research."

"As do the decorations on his wall...", Joan noted, taking a few steps forward. She stopped in front of the painting featuring a vase full of white flowers. "All walls are filled with framed photographs of nature or city panorama, but in the corner, there are these. Very unlike to the other art in the room." Sherlock leaned over to examine it closely. "Note the color and the painting style. And the on the frame. Not something expensive or original, but definite the traditional French art." She turned to face Sherlock. "Maybe we should try researching where that came from."

Sherlock nodded his head. "We know that he was seeing someone. Maybe this was a present."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

Joan found Sherlock in one of the workrooms at the precinct. He was sitting at the desk, in front of the bunch of opened files, photographs and reports scattered around. She sighed and sat at the desk, opposite to him.

"Busy?", she commented.

Sherlock looked up briefly. "Pelts. George was working on their murder."

He pushed one of the photographs on the desk toward her. It featured a young, smiling Caucasian couple of average height and weight. The man had short brown hair and brown eyes. Woman who he had embraced had short blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Howard and Stephanie Pelt, both twenty seven. Multiple mentions of the case in the date book, some remaining info on his work computer, but not a single trace of it in the file cabinet, George's home or in the archive. I believe that the missing file was about that case", he explained. "A young, rich couple. Found dead in their home by a family friend. They had been murdered the day before. Most of valuables stolen, home valut unlocked, opened and emptied." Joan put the photograph down and picked up one of the reports. Sherlock continued. "Two hundred thousand dollars in damage total, estimated. No foreign fingerprints, DNA evidence, no witnesses, nothing."

"The killer somehow convinced them to let him inside, then tasered them both", Joan concluded. "He bind them to the chairs and beat them both until they revealed the location and combination of then home valut. He then killed them both by a single gunshot wound to the head-Smith&Wesson .38, never found, no match in IBIS-took what he came for and left."

Sherlock put another photograph on the desk in front of Joan. It featured red Ford driving down the street at night, the licence plate clearly readable.

"A traffic camera videotaped the car speeding near the crime scene at the night of the murder", he continued before placing the mugshot of the young brown hair Caucasian man near the one of his car. "Licence plates identified the owner as Carl Day, twenty eight, arrested multiple times before for possession of a controlled substance and theft." Sherlock leaned back in his chair. "He was arrested, his home and car searched. Ropes found in his basement matched to the ones used to bind the victims. No other evidence linking him to the murder has been found. No bloody clothing, stolen money and/or valuables, no murder weapon, nothing. He claimed that he had just happened to drive by the murder scene that night and that he had found the ropes at the side of the road." He took a deep breath. "They found marijuana in his house, so he will spend a few years in prison at least, but the prevailing opinion was, and still is, that there is no sufficient evidence linking him to the murders. George Arrow was working on the case, building a drug case against Carl as well as trying to find ways to charge him for murder." He looked over the case elements on the desk. "Of course, now we still have access to the police reports and forensic evidence, but not to George's theories and appeals, with the case file and his laptop gone." He bit at his lower lip. "I am trying to see a bigger picture, but nothing useful here."

Joan frowned, picking up one of the papers. "According to this, Carl's only surviving family is his younger sister, Lydia. Also his only visitor." She frowned. "And quite a regular one."

"One more thing", Sherlock exclaimed. He handed several copies of letters and envelopes to Joan.

"George Arrow had been receiving many threatening letters", he informed her. "This stand out. Especially vicious, frequent. Apparently, he never thought of those as serious enough to file a report. I do." Joan observed the copies closely. Sherlock frowned. "So far, I've been able to deduce that the killer is a right handed man, native of Long Island."

#

Within half an hour, Sherlock and Joan were standing in Lydia Day's living room. The pretty young brunette grimaced as she walked around the couch closer to them. She was dressed in pink T-shirt and blue jeans. There was an armchair opposite to the couch, and the TV set in the other end of the room.

"That is so horrible", Lydia said. "I heard about it on the news."

"So, you knew mr. Arrow?", Sherlock asked.

"He was building the case against my brother", Lydia answered calmly. "The murder case. We talked about that a few times."

Sherlock nodded his head, looking around. She had a nice view to the neighborhood. "You must have been... upset with him", he questioned. "In a way."

"Not really", Lydia said calmly. "Carl and I weren't that close. If he did such a thing, he still has to pay."

"You've been visiting him quite regularly", Joan pointed out.

Lydia glared at her. "Yes, because he is my brother after all and he's going through the tough time. That doesn't mean that he doesn't have to be punished." She sighed and looked down at the floor for a moment. "Though, to be honest, I didn't think that he would be capable of something like that. I still don't." She pouted. "I was hoping that mr. Arrow would come to realize that."

"Where were you today between eight and eleven pm?", Sherlock asked.

"I spent the night at my boyfriend's house", she answered. "Alan Newman. I can give you his contact info." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And if you are interested, the police checked my alibi for Pelt's murders too. I was on a vacation in Florida."

Sherlock and Joan exchanged a look.

#

Carl looked pretty much the same like he had when he hadn't lived in prison: messy brown hair, deep brown eyes, square jaw. He glared at Sherlock and Joan through the bullet proof glass suspiciously, his fingers wrapping tightly around the phone.

"My sister and I grew up together. Went to school together." He grimaced. "Got abused together." He smirked. "But she would never murder for me." His face turned more serious. "Neither could I ever murder anyone, directly or indirectly."

"Except those two innocent people few months ago", Sherlocj pointed out. "At least."

Carl sighed, looking away. "How many times do I have to tell you this, I was at home when that happened, watching a football game on TV", he hissed.

"Too bad there's no one to confirm that", Joan taunted.

"I guess it was also my fault for living alone and not going to work on Sunday." He gulped.

Joan tilted her head to the sight. "Before you drove by the murder scene for a few minutes that night?"

Charles sighed. "I have nothing to do with any of that. Just ask my sister. I'm just not that... caliber." He stood up. "CO, the door!", he yelled and looked away before the CO came and escorted him back to his cell.

Joan groaned. "Well, this was useless."

"Not useless at all", Sherlock sighed, his face lightening up. "He may not be guilty of this murder, but I think we can tie him to the original two. I think he hid the stolen idoms, possibly even the murder weapon, on his workplace."

"What makes you say that?", Joan asked.

"He talked a lot about his life and the night of the murder, his sister, but barely at all about his job", Sherlock explained. "He mentioned it once and I think that was a slip of the tongue. He grinded his teeth after mentioning it and gulped sometime later." "He worked as a construction worker at the time of his arrest. Police searched his current workplace and a few previous, now abandoned ones, but found nothing and gave up on that lead. But it turns out, many of the projects that he worked on are finished, only the object aren't in function yet. I'll inform captain Gregson, tell him to set up a search. One more violent psychopath put behind the bars for a long time."

"And now, there's Susan."

Sherlock glanced at her. "You still think that she is guilty?"

"Well, I don't really see a better theory by this point". Joan cried.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Sherlock's ringtone going off. He pulled out his phone and quickly read the email that he had received.

"Speaking about her, the forensic report", he read. "No foreign fingerprints in George's house. No foreign DNA, except for the one extracted from the traces of vaginal fluid found on the bed sheets and the identical one extracted from the few blonde hairs found in the shower drain. It doesn't match to Susan. All the alibies so far check out, including Susan. But of course, nobody can vertify for every minute of her time spent in that crowd of people. Mr. Arrow's house was merely twenty miles away. Still, the parole device data seems to confirm her story. Tough to trick that. By the way, captain Gregson put up a surveillance on her. People in charge didn't spot anything suspicious during the two hours they were following her. It was then that she noticed them, called the precinct and threatened to sue everyone. So, that option is out too."

Joan's face fell. "So, what are we going to do now?"

Sherlock thought long and hard about that, looking in front of himself. "I don't know." He turned to face Joan. "We may have to take some extreme measures."

Joan shivered. Sherlock looked away again. "But I have some business to conduct first."

#

Sherlock shifted in his seat. He was sitting at the kitchen table in Randy's apartment, opposite to him. Randy didn't even finish the first page in the file that laid opened on the table in front of him when Sherlock finished his explanation. "They have employeed several people with criminal record-of minor crimes-before", he concluded. "And they do have several free councelors. So I don't think there would be much problems if they are to learn about your... past."

Randy frowned, looking up. "Am I supposed to tell them? What if they find out later?"

"Since you were never in the trouble with the law, that can be considered irrelevant", Sherlock explained.

Randy smiled. "Thank you. This really helped me."

Sherlock smiled back. "You're welcome."

Randy looked down at the floor for a moment. "Some of my jobs didn't... end well due to that... past."

"Well, if that was the reason, I think you are better off without them anyway", he said, trying to sound comforting. Randy looked up at him and chuckled.

Sherlock leaned forward, fondling his hands together. "But I have one more preposition for you."

"What kind?"

"Let's pretend that I'm your future boss", Sherlock exclaimed. Randy widened his eyes. "And you are... you." He grinned. "This is a job interview. Introduce yourself to me."

Randy looked around and ran a hand through his hair. He eventually looked Sherlock in the eyes and smiled. "Hi, I'm Randy."

Sherlock grimaced. "Hmmm..."

#

Joan was surprised upon seeing that both the living room and the dining room were empty. Sherlock usually preferred working on complicated cases in there, and judging by his demeanor the day before, he was ready to work on it the whole night.

She sighed, walking over to the stove and putting some water to boil. Maybe he was in his room. Or the bathroom.

She looked around, her gaze eventually stopping on Sherlock's room door... more specifically, on the sign on the door.

"COITUS IN PROGRESS OR RECENTLY CONCLUDED."

She sighed and turned back toward the stove before pulling a package of coffee from the cupboard above. At around that time, she heard the sound of the near by door opening. She didn't turn around, but she somehow knew that that wasn't Sherlock.

"Good morning", she said, with her back turned to a newcomer. "Want some coffee?"

"That would be nice."

Joan shivered, recognizing the voice instantly. She turned around, her eyes wide, and froze upon seeing Susan Walters stand in front of her, wearing nothing but a really low cut white lace nightgown, her hair a bit ruffled and a mischievous smile on her face.

Before she was able to say anything or even fully comprehend the situation, Sherlock had walked out of his room, closing the door behind, fixing his T-shirt before facing Joan, oblivious to a bewildered look on her face.

"Good morning, Joan. How about some coffee?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

Susan was sitting at their kitchen table as if that were the most natural thing ever. Joan briefly glared at her before walking over to Sherlock, who was standing in front of the stove. He put the frying pan on it, cooking oil already applied to the surface.

Joan sighed, trying to control her rage. "I have plenty of questions, the first one being..." She leaned over and lowered her voice, an angry look coloring her face completely. "Why is there a convicted serial killer in our home?", she hissed.

"Oh", Sherlock exclaimed, appearing almost surprised. "I invited her", he said, matter of factly.

Joan rolled her eyes. "Why?", she cried.

"To investigate her", Sherlock answered calmly before pulling the eggs out of the refrigerator.

"What about the sign on the door?", Joan accused him, trying to keep her voice down. She took a quick look at Susan, who didn't seem to pay attention to them, before turning to Sherlock. "What about her coming out of your bedroom?"

"Oh", Sherlock exclaimed, breaking the egg shell against the bowl and pouring the content in it. "I investigated her by sleeping with her."

Joan felt her mind spinning, the blood rushing away from her face. "What?", she cried.

"With all due respect, I don't understand your distress", Sherlock said, breaking another egg. "She is not the most dangerous person to visit the brownstone. Not even the most dangerous person I've slept with. After reaching a dead end following your retreat to the bedroom, I went to see her, at her house, talk to her about the case, she suggest that we discuss some... things here and one thing led to another."

Short silence. Third egg. Joan felt her mouth go dry. A shiver went up her back.

"She no longer wets her bed", Sherlock exclaimed. "Not in a bad way, I mean."

Joan groaned. "OK. This is going nowhere. I just have one question. Why?"

Sherlock stared at her, confused. "I already..."

"Why?", Joan repeated sternly. Sherlock took a deep breath, swallowing a lump that had, for some reason, formed in his throat.

"If she really were the killer, she would never agree to come to my house and interact with me. If she did, she would at least somehow gloat about her wrongdoing. She didn't. I also used my chance to explore her body, every inch of it." Joan groaned, face palmimg herself. "No bruise, not the slightest one. Except by the ones caused by our... activities, of course." He poured the eggs into the pan. "Even if it was concealed, even if it was brilliantly concealed, I would have found it. I even took a few photographs..."

"What about the Mustang? The perfume? The CD?", Joan asked.

"Somebody is trying to frame her, obviously", Sherlock answered, the eggs. "She is a perfect patsy. For that particular murder, I mean."

Joan sighed, looking away. "Great. This is just great. What even her probation officer discovers, through the parole device, that she visited our house? And staid there overnight?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Nothing about that counts as a parole violation. And we are just consultants. Many of the so-called "rules" don't apply to us. I expected you to know that by now." He looked down at the Pan. "She'll be gone soon, after finishing her morning coffee."

Joan face-palmed herself. "I can't believe I made her a coffee..." She sighed before straightening herself up and facing Sherlock. "So, basically, you discovered nothing new."

"I positively eliminated the suspect. Quite the strong one. There is no doubt in my mind that Susan Walters, or Jenny Sanders, however you wish to call her, is innocent. My mind, as well as yours, is much clearer now. We can freely consider other theories."

His ringtone went off. He ran to the table, picked his phone up (after exchanging a smile with Susan), and quickly read the email he had received. Soon, his face fell.

"I have to admit, this is disappointing", he sakd before looking up at Joan. "The police searched all the construction sigths Carl had worked on, that could be used to hide the evidence, but they found nothing linking him to neither of the murders. And, apparently, he got that pen while consulting with that firm over one of his cases."

It was then that Joan's smartphone rang. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and quickly read the email she had received. "This is better", she said smugly. "They managed to track down the person who purchased that painting in George's office."

"You have very nice legs."

Joan shivered, turning around. Susan grinned at her before taking another sip of coffee. Joan quickly rushed to her room.

#

Mandy shifted in her spot, seated at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to Thomas and Marcus. Joan stood near by, looking at her, her arms crossed over her chest. Thomas pulled one of the photographs from the case file on the table and put it in front of Mandy.

"Not really expensive, this painting", he exclaimed. Mandy looked at the photograph and gulped. "There are many copies available in this city. But not that many."

"Our guys managed to track down all the people who purchased such painting in a twenty mile radius from his office, about two months ago", Marcus continued. "Not that many of them. And only one seemed to be connected to George. You."

"A pretty intimate present", Joan pointed out.

Mandy formed a small smile, trying to stay calm. "I thought that it would fit into his office nicely. Light up the space." She fondled her hands together. "I don't understand what you are implying."

"OK", Marcus agreed, nodding his head. "Then you'll have no problems providing us with your DNA sample."

Mandy's eyes widened. "What for?"

"Forensics recovered some vaginal fluid on George's bed sheets and blonde hairs in his shower drain", Joan explained. "So, we would like to eliminate you as a person of interest in this situation."

"You had to provide fingerprint samples before applying for the job here, but not the DNA sample", Thomas added.

"I'm afraid I'm not OK with that", she admitted.

Thomas pushed a piece of paper over to Mandy. She skimmed through the content, the color leaving her face. "Here is the warrant", Thomas explained.

"OK, I was in a relationship with George", she admitted, her eyes watery. "But I have nothing to do with his murder!"

"Why didn't you tell us about that?", Joan asked.

Mandy took a deep breath. "Because... I didn't want you to get wrong ideas. And it wasn't important."

"Where were you two days ago between eight and eleven pm?", Thomas asked.

"At home."

"Can anyone confirm that?", Marcus asked.

Mandy shuddered. She tried to calm herself down. "I was alone... I ordered a Chinese take out at about eight, talked to my mother on the phone at around nine and with a friend at around ten." She took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "I downloaded the movie online about half an hour later."

"We will check that", Thomas warned her, writing the info down.

"You would probably spend a lot of time at his house", Joan concluded. "Did you notice anything suspicious? Out of place?"

Mandy frowned. "No... but I noticed the car parked near the house one night. I hadn't noticed it before, and I haven't seen it after."

"What kind of the car?", Marcus asked.

"Red Mustang. I don't remember much else."

"We will still have to take a sample of your DNA, just in case", Marcus said. Mandy just nodded her head.

It was then that the door creeked open, and Sherlock peeked inside. "Watson. Bell. Gregson." He briefly glanced at Mandy before looking up. "Come along if you will."

#

Sherlock rushed back into the workroom, walking over to the desk that was filled with the copies of the threatening letters sent to George Arrow. Others followed him, looking pretty confused. "Those threatening letters that George had been receiving...", he mused. "I cross matched the conclusions derived from the letters themselves with the information from George's case files."

He was about to continue when his ringtone went off. He pulled out his phone and read the text. It was from Randy, comtaing two photographs of neckties, and a question: _Which one?_

"Randy?", Joan asked, titlting her head to the side.

"Yes", Sherlock answered, quickly typing the response. "I might have scared him a bit yesterday."

He pressed the "Send" button and pulled the phone down his pocket, then picked one of the papers up from the table, the one featuring the photograph of a middle aged Caucasian man amd some personal info written down. "George convicted his brother of first degree murder early this year. He matches to all the details I have extracted from examining these letters."

"He can't be the only person matching that description", Joan pointed out.

Sherlock nodded his head. "No, but the threatening letters started a month after the conviction." He examined some of the documents closely. "He would send them almost every week, except for the fourth of month. According to his Facebook page, on those days, he usually travels to Long Island to visit his sister."

"Let's bring him in for questioning", Thomas decided.

Sherlock's ringtone went off again. He pulled his phone out and read the text. "This could take a while", he said.

#

Nick scoffed, holding the copy of one of the letters in his hand. He was sitting in the interrogation room, with Thomas and Marcus standing opposite to him, and Sherlock standing by the side.

"You think I sent those letters based on that?" He grinned. "I believe you know this is all circumstancial evidence."

"It's good enough evidence for us to consider you the prime suspect", Thomas pointed out. Nick sighed.

"Where were you two nights ago between eight and eleven pm?", Marcus asked.

"At work. You can check."

"We will", Marcus assured him.

"I noticed that you would "save" your right leg a bit when you walked in here", Sherlock pointed out. "You don't happen to have a bruise somewhere on that area, don't you?"

Nick shivered. "I hurt myself a few days ago, at work. So what?"

"Mr. Hawkes, this alone is enough to get you at least two years in prison", Thomas warned him.

"Even if you can prove that I wrote those letters, there is no way that I killed George. Check my alibi!"

Sherlock was about to ask a few more questions when a young patrole officer, looking slightly confused, walked in. "Sorry, I lost the number...", he said kind of shyly, seeming to talk to Thomas in particular. "We have... uhm... found something important."

#

The crime scene was a modest but nicely decorated Brooklyn house. Everything was ransacked: kitchen cupboards, kitchen drawers, the book shelf in the living room. There were blood splatters all over the kitchen walls and the kitchen sink. Sherlock carefully stepped over the body before Thonas took a step forward; Marcus continued standing aside, checking his notes. Young red haired woman was laying face down on the kitchen floor, the back of her head bruised and bloodied. She was wearing white T-shirt, blue jeans, and red house slippers.

"We've been interrogating Susan's former cellmates, just in case", Thomas explained before looking at the body. "Meet Lyndsey Dawnson." Sherlock took one more look at the body before examining the mark on the kitchen table, even smelling it. Thomas glanced at him, then continued. "After she hadn't been answering, a couple of our guys kicked the door in... they found her like this."

"She hacked the IRS database in 2009", Marcus read, walking around. "Deleted the information about her debt. Spent five years in prison, got out shortly before Susan. Two years prior to that conviction, she was convicted of illegal possession of a fire arm. M.E. estimates that she was murdered two nights ago. Multiple blunt force traumas to the back of the head, likely with the gun handle-possibly caliber .45." He looked around. "A burglary gone wrong... it would appear", he said sceptically.

Thomas walked over to Sherlock. Sherlock was examining two drinking glasses on the kitchen element, even sufficient at them-and the kitchen sink a few times.

"Definitely not a burglary gone wrong", he concluded. "She knew the killer, poured him-or her-a glass of scotch, as well as herself. The killer cleaned it up afterwards, but the scent remains, on the glasses, kitchen sink, and the victim's body. The scotch is now in the refrigerator, but there is a wet ring on the table." He sighed. "That was the last things she ever drank."

Thomas looked him in the eyes. "You know that this looks bad, right?", he asked him silently.

Sherlock nodded his head. "Most definitely. Someone like Lyndsey could have helped Susan to re-direct the signal of her parole device. Provide her with the instructions, some sort of a devise... Susan murdered George as a revenge, and then Lyndsey, to cover her tracks." He sighed, looking through the window. "It would make sense that she would bludgeon her to death with the gun rather than shooting her so the police wouldn't link this murder with the murder of George Arrow, therefore having even more reasons to suspect her of that crime." He looked Thomas in the eyes. "Except Susan didn't do any of those things", he said determinently.

Thomas frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"I can", Sherlock answered calmly.

Marcus walked over to them. "I have no idea what you two have been talking about, but I just received an email from the forensics", he said. "They extracted the DNA profile from one of the hairs recovered on George's living room carpet. It matches to Susan." He sighed. "Also, the search team recovered a caliber .45 gun on the bottom of the lake near the place where the fundraiser that Susan had attended took place."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **This is the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this story! Since Randy's last name hasn't been revealed on the show, I decided to have his last name Williams, for the purpose of this story, which is the last name of the actor who portrays him, Stephen Tyrone Williams.**

Susan looked surprisingly calm. She smiled widely at Thomas as he entered the interrogation room. Her lawyer glared at the captain. Thomas sighed and sat at the desk, opposite to her.

"Don't worry; no cyanide pill this time."

"Still mantaining your innocence?", Thomas asked drly.

"Most definitely", Susan said calmly.

"What about the evidence? The gun? DNA?"

Susan fondled het hands together. "It is simple, really. Somebody must have planted the evidence."

"You expect us to believe that?"

"I am a controversial person. And George Arrow had lots of enemies too."

"And somebody just so happened to murder your former cellmate? The one that could have helped you disable the parole device?"

"For the frame up to make sense, yes", Susan said, nodding her head.

Thomas leaned over, lowering his voice. "Listen, ms. Walters. If there is any chance that you might be free before you die, start co operating. Now."

Susan remained calm. She licked her lips. "I didn't kill those people. Go and find the person who did." She glanced at her lawyer. "Also, I don't expect to stay in here for long anyway", she said smugly.

#

Thomas sighed as he left the interrogation room, closing the door behind. He noticed Sherlock approaching him, and started walking down the hallway despite that.

"I do believe that she is innocent", Sherlock exclaimed.

"Why?"

"First of all, the motive does seem weak. Second, obviously knew the girl. Yet, she served him, or her, scotch."

Thomas frowned. "So?"

"Susan hates scotch", Sherlock said, matter of factly.

Thomas glared at him. "How do you know that?"

"An alcohol case in her living room. Many different alcohol drinks, many different brands of wine, vodka, bourbon. But only one bottle of scotch, in the corner on the bottom shelf."

"Is this all?"

Sherlock looked around for a moment. "I know, for sure, that she doesn't have a fresh bruise anywhere on her body."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I don't know how you know that, Holmes, but unless you have the actual evidence implicating another person, Susan is going back to prison."

#

Sherlock kept moving back and forth through Susan's bedroom almost frantically, looking around. Joan followed him slowly. They both had latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms.

"What are we looking for?", Joan asked.

"A suspicious letters, a hidden compartment, a date book..."

He stopped in front of the CD case positioned near the bed, having noticed something. Joan observed him, surprised. "What?", she wondered.

"This CD box is out of order", he said, pointing to the first CD box to the left. "The CDs are lined up, on this CD case, from the earliest releases to the latest ones. Except for the first one to the left. That one is from 2015." "I did a lot of research about her art work too."

He pulled the CD box off the shelf and opened it. He carefully examined the disc and recovered an USB behind the wrapped.

Sherlock exchanged a look before walking over to the writing desk, lifting the laptop lid open, turning it on, typing in the password, and plugging the USB into it.

"How did you know the password?", Joan asked.

"20th March 1992. The anniversary of her conviction."

The bunch of tapes appeared on the screen. Sherlock clicked at the first icon to the left. Soon, the image of Susan kissing passionately with another woman appeared on the screen. The woman was a bit younger and taller, African American, with long curly black hair and black eyes. The two of them were pulling their clothes off, their moaning groaning louder.

Both Sherlock and Joan stared at the screen quite awkwardly, taking few steps back.

"Jeanine Jones", Joan eventually exclaimed, looking away. "A rap singer. Quite famous one."

Sherlock glanced at her before turning his attention back to the sex tape,

"I sometimes go through the radio stations and...", Joan started defensively.

"Stop talking", he said, freezinh the image. Look", he said, pointing at the screen. "Jeanine's necklace. Bracelet." He straightened himself up and picked up Susan's jewelry box, showing it to Joan. "Susan's bracelet. Wrist watch. Ear rings."

"Same design", Joan noticed.

"Same designer. Same jewelry chain."

#

Jeaninr grimaced as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was at her office, standing in front of Sherlock and Joan, dressed in a low cut skirt and a blouse.

"Poking about my private life. Swell."

"We poked about Susan's private life", Joan said. "You just... popped up."

Jeanine licked her lips. "We had a similar taste. In jewelry. We were going to the same jewelry stores... it happened." She looked away. "But it was a strictly... sexual relationship."

"You knew about her... past?", Sherlock asked.

Jeanine sighed. "I couldn't resist."

Sherlock nodded his head. "So I saw." Jeanine blushed and looked away again.

"I didn't frame her", she eventually said. "I had no reason too. We haven't broke up. I don't mind her seeing other people."

"Where were you two nights ago between eight and eleven pm?", Sherlock asked.

"Giving an interview. You can check."

"It came to our understanding that you were charge with an illegal possesion of a fire arm in 2000 and an assault in 2007."

"That is behind me now. And I had no reason to hurt her. You can ask her yourself."

#

Sherlock and Joan took one more look at the office door before they started walking down the hallway, toward the exist.

"Jeanine is right", Sherlock said. "Susan never mentioned her. And she seemed pretty confident about the alibi."

"So, we have to look into the families of Susan's victims", Joan concluded.

#

Randy adjusted his shirt sleeves as his interviewer walked back into the office, a wide smile on her face. The roon was pretty big and nicely decorated, with big desk to the middle and the large bookcase to the left. She sat back down at the table, opposite to him.

"Mr. Williams, we have finished checking your resume", she exclaimed. She looked him in the eyes. "Congratulations. The job is yours."

Randy felt himself blush, a thrill rushing through his body. He let out a chuckle. "Well... thank you!", he exclaimed. "I'm... I'm delighted, really."

"I have to admit, your website is pretty fascinating too", she commented.

Randy frowned. "The website?"

#

Nick Hawkes grinded his teeth, his face coated with sweat. He was sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to Marcus. Sherlock was standing near by.

"With all due respect, mr. Hawkes, Susan Sanders murdered your mother", Sherlock said, glaring at him. Nick shuddered. "You started a petition against her releas, harrassed her with the phone calls for the first couple of months..."

"She deserved that!"

"Where were you two nights ago between eight and eleven pm?", Marcus asked.

"At work!", Nick snapped. "I deliver food to those promotions, at galleries, theaters... I was busy the whole night. Talk to my boss, check the security footage!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If I decided to harm her, I would have killed her. Slowly."

Sherlock's face suddenly lightened up. "The gallery...", he exclaimed before pulling the phone out of his pocket, instantly typing away.

#

Lydia took a deep breath, looking around the interrogation room. Thomas and Marcus were sitting at the table, opposite to him, while Sherlock and Joan stood to the side.

"The police really did a lot of research about your brother", Thomas said, pulling some papers out of the file and putting them on the table in front Lydia. "They checked his phone records too. You two communicated quite a lot in the weeks prior to the murders."

"He was going through the tough time", Lydia said. "I was trying to help him. I told them that."

Thomas then pulled out the print out of a gallery photograph that Sherlock had had on his IPhone. Lydia flinched. "See this? Pelts would often go to the gallery where you work."

"I saw it on the gallery's website while looking into Carl's case", Sherlock explained.

"Many people work there", Lydia tried.

"You seem to have finantial problems on your own", Marcus pointed out. "Two mortgages on the house."

Lydia shrugged. "So?"

"There was a break in in the pawn shop near your home a week ago", Joan said. "A .45 caliber gun and the amunition were stolen."

"Lots and lots of coincidences, huh?", Sherlock commented.

"I haven't done anything wrong", Lydia insisted.

"Quite the plan you and your brother had", Sherlock started, ignoring her. "He was going to rob and murder that couple while you would alibi yourself in Miami."

"Maybe the murders hadn't been the part of the plan originally, but it eventually came to that", Joan added.

"Your brother made a mistake", Sherlock said, continuing. "He got arrested. They couldn't prove that he had committed the murders though. They didn't even suspect you. But he ended up in prison on the marijuana possession charge. He has kept quiet because he has expected to get his share once he would get out. But George kept working on the case. You knew that, he talked to you a few times. You said so yourself."

"He was getting onto your brother", Joan concluded. "If your brother was to face prison time for two first degree murders... well, you were afraid that he would rat on you in an exchange for a lighter sentence. The money wouldn't matter to him: he would spend decades in prison, deal or no deal. You couldn't kill him; he was in prison, bound to remain in there for the next few years. Maybe George was on the way on uncovering your involvement too, and you figured that out. Though he did let you in his house that night."

"Of course, another prosecutor could always take over the case", Thomas said. "But you must have known how persistent and competent George was. Not many other prosecution's could match with that. And the disappearance of the original files and his notes would significantly lessen their chances."

"In order to get away with it and avoid the further police focus on your brother, you decided to frame someone for that murder", Joan explained. "Jenny Summers case was... infamous, actually. A simple google search on George Arrow would uncover his involvement. She was a perfect patsy."

"You probably stalked her for some time", Sherlock assumed. "Got to know her habits, what kind of the car she drives. You stalked George to know. Found out his daily schedules, that he usually takes the files and his work laptop home with him. At some point, you managed to obtain a sample of Jenny's-Susan's-hair. Maybe you somehow managed to sneak into her house and take the sample from her hair brush. Or bumped into her in the crowd and managed to pick up her hair from her clothing. You are obviously quite clever, resorceful. You even decided to murder George while Susan was at that fundraiser. Quite brilliant, actually."

"He let you in, you murdered him", Marcus accused her. "Tried to make the impression of a botched burglary, so nothing would seem too obvious. Planted Susan's hair on the carpet, put her CD to play. You even drove the car similar to hers and wore shoes and perfume matching to her preferred style and brand. Very well thought out."

Sherlock took a step closer. "Of course, you knew about Susan's parole device. You had to explain that somehow, so the frame up would make sense. There comes Lyndsaey Dawns. She mentioned several of her cellmates on her website. You did some research and choose the one able to help her trick some device. You got to know her, gained her trust. Maybe you discussed about some fictional illegal job. You called her from the phone booth near Susan's home that day. Shortly after murdering George, you went to her place. She let you in. You bludgeoned her to death with the gun handle and estaged the crime scene as a botched burglary too. You then dumped the gun in a lake near the place where the fundraiser that Susan attended had taken place. You even convinced your boyfriend to provide you an alibi by promising him a part of the money."

"It was, apparently, enough for a search warrant", Thomas face, opening the file. Lydia's face turned pale. "We searched your house, car, workplace, examined your computer. You did your best to dispose of all the evidence, but our techs still managed to uncover some interesting data on your computer. Multiple hits on the serial killer fansite, for example. The article about Jenny Sanders, to be exact. Multiple hits on Susan Walters' website. On articles about Jenny Sanders' murder trial."

"We made some calls and found out that you rented a red Mustang a week ago", Marcus added. "You returned it the day after the murders."

"I was there during the search", Sherlock chimmed in. "I noticed that some of your floor boards appear loose. Upon removing them, I recovered the money and valuables stolen from the Pelts' home. The ones that you removed from the construction sight where your brother had hidden it originally. As well as the valuables stolen from mr. Arrow's he. The greed got the better of you."

"Once we confronted your boyfriend with all this evidence, he spilled the guts almost immediately", Marcus explained.

"You would probably kill your brother once he got out too", Joan figured. "You just needed to make sure he keeps quiet until you could get to him."

"Of course, except for the motive and some circumstancial evidence, we still don't really have the strong evidence against your brother. If you testify against him Abd reveal the location of the gun, you may get to see the parole board before you die. Your choice."

Lydia sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

#

Sherlock was sitting slumped in the armchair, in front of the TV. The news about Lydia's arrest was on. It was more about Susan Walters, of course.

"My heart goes to George Arrow and his family", Susan said, looking directly into the camera. "I don't blame the NYPD for arresting me, because given the evidence and my past, that I still deeply regret..."

"I won't start seeing her or anything, don't worry", Sherlock said to Joan, still looking at the TV screen. "Not even just for sex."

"I'm thrilled", Joan replied sarcastically. "Randy wasn't mad at you?"

"No. I have created the website without his knowledge, but I only put up his actual works on it. And added my admirable writing skills and sweet-talk." He sighed. "It turned out great." He shifted in his spot. "He did give me a lecture about not providing him with help or favors unless he wanted it though."

"Good for him", Joan commented. She smirked. "And you."

A short silence ensued. Susan kept droning on.

"The darkness", Sherlock mused. "It can really be alluring." He smirked. "But what is really alluring is what fights that evil. The light. And the light will win over the darkness."

Joan blushed, gazing at him. "You want an ice cream?"

"I sure do."

~THE END~


End file.
